Chapter Two: The Old Witch Deserves to Be Thrown Into the Cauldron

Before she could finish her sentence, a hand suddenly struck out from the side, snatching the phone away. Turning to the person on the other end, he apologized profusely. “Director Wang, I’m so sorry, we’re not terminating the contract. I apologize, Waning just woke up; her mind is still a bit muddled…”

Vincent, having just rushed in, was terrified out of his wits when he heard Su Waning say she wanted to break the contract.

It’s you who’s not thinking clearly.

Su Waning sat to the side, arms crossed, watching as Vincent finished his apologies and hung up the phone.

“So—” she began, pondering how to gently persuade him to drop his obsessions and retire in peace, when she saw Vincent—a grown man—his eyes suddenly rimmed red with tears.

Su Waning was startled. “Why are you crying?”

Vincent sniffed, shooting her a look full of exasperation and disappointment, then pointed to Su Waning’s wrist, which was still wrapped in thick bandages.

“I told you, if the sky falls, I’ll hold it up for you. What are you doing to yourself?”

“Well…” She hadn’t been the one to attempt suicide, and Su Waning opened her mouth awkwardly, but couldn’t think what to say.

Unexpectedly, the man before her changed tack, his tone turning passionate, almost heroic. “Why break the contract? Have you forgotten our dreams? Remember how we once held hands, promising to step onto the international stage together? You’d become a top actress, and I’d be a superstar agent. It’s only been a few years—have you forgotten everything?”

Su Waning: “…”

What kind of melodramatic lines are these?

“The penalty fee is sky-high. Have you even thought about how much money you actually have?”

“Don’t worry about me! I’m loaded!” Su Waning blurted out without thinking.

“Loaded? Didn’t you just donate five million to charity last month? No one could talk you out of it! How about this—if you can cough up the money, or beg that so-called husband of yours for it, then I’ll stop meddling in your contract termination.”

Su Waning snatched up her phone and started checking her WeChat, Alipay, and all her banking apps one by one…

Gradually, disbelief widened her eyes.

Where was her money?

She was a reigning superstar, with endless ad contracts and millions in pocket money each month. She often donated to charity behind the scenes, but surely she hadn’t left herself with only five figures!

And as for that husband in name only—he hadn’t shown his face even after her suicide attempt. There was no point counting on him.

Seeing Su Waning fall silent, Vincent’s expression brightened. Sensing an opportunity, he pressed on: “Even if you had the money, tossing away an eight-figure penalty fee for nothing—isn’t that a waste? This show has a top-notch team. Your appearance fee alone will be at least seven figures…”

At the mention of seven figures, Su Waning’s eyes lit up instantly.

She was famously frugal. Before she’d entered the story, as a blogger, she’d never bought a single fill light; she always filmed during the day, claiming natural daylight was softer, but really, she just hated wasting electricity.

Throwing away an eight-figure fee for nothing? The very thought made her heart ache.

So Su Waning said mournfully, “You’re right. We can’t just—no, we can’t let this opportunity fall into someone else’s lap!”

Vincent finally smiled, though he found it a bit odd. How had Su Waning become so cooperative after a brush with death? She seemed almost like a different person…

Meanwhile, Su Waning was already fretting over how to mend her relationship with her two children. The previous “Su Waning” had soured things terribly, and now she needed them. What should she do?

No matter—if money was on the line, she’d beg them if she had to!

Just then, a maid entered carrying a tray, collecting the glass from the table. Su Waning seized the chance to ask, “Where are Sui and Nian?”

The maid froze, confused. “What?”

Su Waning repeated patiently, “Where are my children?”

The maid’s expression grew complicated, and in her bewilderment, she fumbled the tray, sending water spilling across the plush carpet.

She knelt, hurriedly cleaning up, fear of Su Waning’s reprisal warring with puzzlement. The lady of the house had never asked about her children before; if they were mentioned, she’d only demand they be punished harder. How strange, then, that she now sounded so concerned.

“Ma’am, I’ll take you to them, but… can you not punish the young master?”

“Stop wasting time, take me there,” Su Waning said crisply, standing and following the maid downstairs.

At the bedroom door, she saw a servant cornering a boy, berating him while pinching the soft flesh on his body in a fit of vindictive rage.

The boy, thin and frail in his scant clothing, was bundled into a tight ball in the corner, hands and feet bound, and a wad of black cloth stuffed in his mouth, muffling the sounds coming from his throat.

He wasn’t crying; it sounded more like a threat.

In the dim room, a pale-skinned girl lay unconscious in the other corner, motionless.

This was the sight that met Su Waning as she pushed open the door.

Though she’d steeled herself, the scene still shook her. The servant, hearing movement behind her, turned to her with a look of eager anticipation.

“Waning, I haven’t given them a drop of water. These brats—”

Smack!

Before she could finish, Su Waning raised her hand and dealt her a fierce slap. Everyone in the room froze.

Narrowing her eyes, Su Waning fixed the servant with a gaze sharp as a blade. With her long manicured nails, she dug hard into the woman’s arm.

The servant flinched in pain.

Su Waning then raised her leg and kicked her hard in the stomach.

The servant fell, clutching her belly, too aggrieved to protest, her voice tremulous and small. “Waning, what are you doing? What did I do wrong…”

Her voice grew fainter and fainter, until it was nearly inaudible.

Su Waning frowned, recalling that this maid, Wu Xijun, was her supposed “best friend” in the Qin family—always harboring secret feelings for her husband, constantly sowing discord, and using her to climb the social ladder by any means.

“Someone come,” Su Waning commanded, eyebrows drawn tight, pointing at the maid.

“Tie her up for me. No food, no water, and make sure her mouth is stuffed.”

The servant could hardly believe it. Only as she was dragged to the door did she come to her senses, crying out toward Su Waning: “Ma’am, I was only following your orders! You can’t do this to me!”

No one noticed that the boy in the corner, seeing Su Waning defend them, whimpered and charged at her, hands bound, ramming his head into her stomach.

Such a small body, determined but ineffectual, only made himself stumble and land squarely on the floor.

Su Waning found it funny and walked over, removing the cloth from his mouth herself. The boy immediately glared at her, his eyes burning with hatred like a wounded leopard cub in the dark.

“You old witch! You ought to be boiled in oil! Get out! Stay far away!”

His voice was clear and childish, edged with hoarseness, and he hurled insults at her without pause.

And in the midst of such invective, Su Waning only laughed and approached her son.